Beat the World
by anaknisatanas
Summary: Not all can find peace at the end of conflict.


_Try to use a better piece of your mind_

_Punch you inside out_

_And the whole world's there to see you_

Duo looked around and he could see that everyone knew even if they didn't say anything.  Heero had told the others of his nightmares.  He could just tell by the way they were now studying him but trying to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary.  Nothing out of the ordinary in how they now behaved around him or how they now tried to not bring up unpleasant things.

How stupid did they think he was?

Obviously pretty stupid.  Right now he hated Heero.  The bastard had had no right to tell them anything.  But still he had and there wasn't anything that Duo could do about it now.  He went on about his normal routine in the morning and then he went back upstairs.  Heero was out which Duo didn't find surprising.  He'd been out a lot lately and told no one where he had been going.

Duo tried to tell himself that he didn't care but that wasn't true.  He cared a little too much.  Perhaps that was his problem.  He just didn't know what to think any longer because things were getting way beyond any normal level of contemplation.  Hell, things were just screwed up in general.

_Does it make you want to think_

_About the tragic things in this life_

_If you want to cry, time to deny_

Duo flopped down on his bed and began taking a trip down memory lane and coming across things that he would rather forget.  He could feel the stinging of on coming tears at his eyes and he squeezed them shut forcefully.  He was not crying!  He never cried any more.

There was nothing wrong.  He refused to admit it but he just couldn't take it any longer.

                His depression was getting worse.  He could see that.  He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold off.  He would never go on medication for fear that he would become dependent on it.  Duo couldn't afford to do that.  He didn't want anyone to know and if he was taken by OZ and needed the medication it wasn't like they were going to give him any or let him keep what he had. 

                No, it was simply better to suffer in silence no matter what he felt like now.  Enough time would eventually pass and one day he would be fine.  Sister Helen had always told him that time took care of everything including pain.  This time Duo didn't think she was right.  It still hurt to think about her, Father Maxwell and Solo.  They were the people he had cared about and they were gone forever.  He could never see them again.

                Duo sat up and pulled a chair over by the window.  He looked out into the rainy morning and stared at the raindrops as they splattered against the glass.  He began counting them to take his mind off Death if only for a short time.  After he had gotten lost somewhere past three hundred he couldn't take it any longer.

_That it makes me want to die _

_For the menace that's in this world_

_If you want to die well it's over now_

                He would have to be strong to pull out of this bout of depression.  He would beat it; he had beaten everything that had come his way including Death and all the OZies.  Yes, this he would beat on his own. 

                There was nothing he couldn't lick, right?  He had always assured himself that was the case but he wasn't so sure any more.  There were times when things were just too dark and there was no lightness poking through to show him that there was hope.  Like now, there was no hope. 

                But had there ever been hope?  Or had he seen something that wasn't really there?  A trick of his mind that had shown him something that really didn't exist.  It was entirely possible; the others had always told him that he had an overactive imagination.  Perhaps he had been fighting for a cause that wasn't real and for a people that would never appreciate their sacrifices. 

                They sure as hell didn't appreciate them now.  He sighed a sigh that was far older than his years.  But then all the pilots had been forced to grow up sooner than most.  They were fighting a war and killing people.  They were the reason why so many others lay dead among the stars and why so many families were torn apart.  They hadn't just killed soldiers too.  Each one of them had taken a fair number of civilian lives as well.   

_If you want to beat the world_

_It might reach up and pull you down_

_If you want to find the way the door is locked, the key is rusted in_

                Living on the streets of L2 had hardened him in a way that the others, Heero included, could never be hardened.  He was a sick masochistic bastard.  He had always known that and he'd never seen fit to tell the others.  It's not like they ever noticed.

                He took off his priest's top and looked at the old scars there on his stomach.  They healed quickly as always.  G had been pleased when he'd noted how young Maxwell seemed to have that trait when Duo had broken a leg and it had only taken him two weeks to heal.  But what G didn't know and what the others didn't know couldn't hurt them could it? 

                It was his policy.  He never told anyone about it and the only person who knew was dead and they would never be talking again.  Not to anyone who could do anything about it. 

                He picked up the old razor.  It being the oldest possession that he had aside from the cross Father Maxwell had given him.  The razor wasn't his original one though.  It had been one Solo had given him, the only other who had known his dirty little secret.                

                He brought the razor up to an old scar and tore it open.  The sharpness of pain made him take an intake of breath suddenly but the pain made him feel better.  It was a release and it was all his.  The blood poured freely from the cut that wasn't deep, just deep enough.  He let it run before stopping it with his shirt. 

_So break away from all these chains that bind you_

_Cut you at the wrist or does it make more sense to go and make the scar yourself_

_Because you like to see it bleeding and you like the color red_

                He looked at the bright red blood on his torso.  It reminded him of all the pain he had seen when he had been growing up.  All the moaning and screaming that went on in the alleyways that everyone learned to ignore and those that couldn't deal with it didn't last too long. 

                The dried blood on his shirt was rusted in color and it brought back memories of all the times that he had previously cut himself.  It was his own little private escape to let out some of the hurt and pain and all the other emotions that he was feeling.  It was an escape that he couldn't get away from and one that he didn't know how to do without.  But that didn't matter so long as it continued to work for him and all these years it had never failed him once. 

                Blood was death and he was death.  Therefore it was perfectly fitting for him to engage in such little activities as this.  Not to be unexpected either if anyone had seen what he was like beneath his mask but no one living had.  Blood was metallic and tangy on his tongue and it spoke volumes of the life that he had spilled whenever he got into the cockpit of Deathscythe, at least it seemed that he was always killing and he was damn good at it too.

                He liked to think that he brought a whole new face to death and all the blood that was now floating around in space.  He was Shinigami and Shinigami's sacrifices could only be made in blood, red, red blood.

_But you've seen the light_

_Through all the hate and all the lies_

_Of the menace that's in this world_

                Duo looked into the mirror at himself and he knew what was really wrong.  He couldn't deal with what he had seen, heard and done any better than anyone else but his way of dealing with it, while perhaps not normal, worked for him.  He was shrewd enough to see that and the ugly truth that was behind the pain that he was enjoying so much now. 

                "Why Duo?" He heard Heero from somewhere off to the side.

                "It hurts," Duo said his voice not its usual characteristic bounce or happiness that was usually heard in the tone.  "The blood is my sacrifice and I'll continue to make it until this war is over." 

                "Duo," Heero said quietly.  "You aren't the only one sacrificing."

                "I know," Duo shrugged and pulled on a clean shirt.  "But it makes me feel better and that's all that really matters in the end.  If you tell anyone Yuy I swear you'll regret it more than anything."

                "I won't," Heero said softly.

                What he'd told Heero, it wasn't the whole truth.  But then was anything true anymore?

                The war was going on around them and the bodies were piling up.  Dead soldiers, civilians and even children lay in the piles.  But none of it mattered any longer because there was a peace between two friends, an understanding and they were dealing with their demons in their own ways, confident that they would conquer all.  The bodies bled a deep, dark red and the count continued to rise. 

_If you want to die, well it's over now_

_If you want to beat the world_

_It might reach up and pull you down_

                For a while they did start to beat back the demons that haunted their footsteps and followed them everywhere they went.  But things weren't always as they seemed and Duo could feel on the edge of his awareness that there was a problem.  His struggle to win was slowly eating him alive.  Everyday he lost more of who he was and every week he slipped farther down into oblivion without even realizing it because he was numb.

                Numbness was nice, very nice.  He no longer felt so much pain or regret at what he had done and been through but that same numbness had another affect on him that he wasn't aware of until it was too late for him to try and fight back.  His demons were rising again and it didn't look like they were going to be very forgiving.  In fact Duo could guarantee that they wouldn't be.  But he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

                He looked down at his torso painted in silver white lines of old cuts and wounds.  He almost giggled at the thought of all of them open again and crying for him.

_If you want to find the way_

_The door is locked and the key is rusted _

_It's rusted in, to find a way_

                The war was over now, and for a while Duo felt normal again.  He wasn't killing anymore, wasn't the God of Death.  And then Dekim Barton came along and Heero came for him.  He went willingly, knowing what would happen to him when it was all over but he didn't know how to get the stupid grin off his face anymore.  It was almost like he had stuck it on there with super glue or something.

                And when the Gundams had won yet again he helped Quatre to destroy them.  They were in a time of peace now, weren't they?

                "Goodbye old buddy," Duo fondly stroked his black Gundam Deathscythe Hell.  "You know you'll always be my favorite.  Shinigami's heart and soul go with you cause they sure as hell aren't with me."

                He took a deep swig from the ever present flask that he carried around with him. 

_It's rusted in, to find a way_

_I gotta find_

            Six months later a lone frail figure was wandering around on L2.  The street gangs gave him a wide berth, they knew he was crazy, knew even better that he was dangerous.  He smiled at them, looked them in the eye and laughed at them.

                The figure moved like a cat.  He crawled into the condemned building that everyone stayed away from and went up to the room that he had claimed for his own.  He stared at the many clippings he had pasted onto the walls.  They were his only possessions now, besides the clothes on his back and the bottles of booze in his room.

                He unscrewed a bottle of Jack Daniels and took a long swig like a dying man who had found Nirvana.  His eyes roved over the wall that was plastered with pictures and articles of Quatre Winner.

                "It was fun pretending to be your brother," The figure's voice was rough from disuse.  "Even if you were nothing but a lie and a hopeless dream."

                He swallowed more of the booze, feeling it run through his system.

                "And you Barton," The figure smiled softly at another wall of pictures and articles.  "I can't really blame you.  We were never that close were we?  But you at least weren't a fraud."

                He opened another full bottle and started drinking heavily from it.  He would need to be a bit more fortified for the next wall.  He turned and looked at it for a few moments.

                "You know Wu-chan," The figure smirked.  "You said you'd write, you thanked me after we Dekim down for good.  But you lied and betrayed me again.  I should have known better than to trust you."

                He finished off the bottle and part of another one before he could even think about facing the last wall.  That one was going to be the hardest one to face.  But eventually he did turn to it and looked for a long time.

                "And you Heero," His face was blank, his grin gone.  "I thought we were at least friends you asshole.  But I should have known better, should have known that you were going to run off to her again.  It's what you always do."

                He pulled out the handgun and looked at it with a broken smile. 

                "My only reliable friend," He cooed at it, the last words he ever said.

_If you want to beat the world_

_It might reach up and pull you down_

_If you want to find the way_

_The door is locked and the key is rusted in_


End file.
